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handed
over to another, although consented to being shared as long as he was part of
the action. Michael then convinced her to let him erotically choke her, to
trust him with enhancing her pleasure and McKenzie gave over, terrified but
willing and while he didn’t do it often, the act served to underscore his
mastery over his sub.
    The fact he chipped away at one limit had stroked his enormous ego
and now made him nauseous to consider that height of arrogance. Because it
really hadn’t been just about his sub. McKenzie completed him and he didn’t
need so many of the trappings. It was for his own sense of security she allowed
it. He knew that now, hindsight being twenty-twenty and insight a lesson hard
learned. At her expense. God.
    The sharing was limited to his stupid whims until he introduced his
sub to Andrew and Joyce. For the first time McKenzie begged a private audience
in the middle of an orgy. She knew what the twins were and sensed they wanted
her, alone; that the sharks were circling. Michael remembered how miserable it
made her to badmouth, however delicately, any of his friends or acquaintances,
to hint he might not have good judgement. His first impulse had been to soothe McKenzie,
reassure her. Instead, because he feared that softer side as it emerged and
grew because of her influence, He brushed her off casually with a flippant
reassurance, and she made herself accept the little he had given. He monitored
the twins’ involvement that night, but they wheedled and manipulated him into
letting them do some things that went past his better judgement. No wonder McKenzie
thought he would turn her over to them. He had failed her then, but she’d
forgiven him, given him another chance.
    They’d moved to a place in a corner of the terrace, one actually
isolated from the rest of the group. Michael took on the role of the voyeur,
watching as Andrew staked McKenzie out, hips elevated by a hard leather pallet
beneath her little ass, legs bent and spread. Joyce used clover clamps,
compressing the little gold circlets he’d inserted when he’d had McKenzie
pierced. His sub whimpered at the pressure and pain, and despite the fact her
cunt glossed over with the juices of arousal, her eyes sought his and
telegraphed anxiety. He hadn’t given much back. He simply expected McKenzie to
gain strength from his presence, and she had done so. Andrew ate her pussy
until she screamed in protest at the incessant orgasms and Michael jerked off
to the sights and sounds. He wouldn’t let Andrew fuck her pussy or ass, but
Joyce somehow convinced him that her using a strap on while McKenzie blew her
brother wasn’t the same thing. He could now admit his prurient interests and
attempt to resist McKenzie’s allure contributed to acquiescing. If Michael
thought it would change things, he’d give McKenzie the crop he favored and bare his backside for her now. But
he had to find her first.
    “Really, Michael. I had no idea that you were so attached, my dear.”
Joyce’s upper crust British voice poked his very masculinity, pricked against
his secret awareness of McKenzie’s power over him. He knew he wasn’t attached
in that way to McKenzie; she was his sub and his possession and he got to make
the decisions as to how she was used. He just didn’t want to share two of her
orifices with anyone else. That’s what he tried to convince himself and others.
But Joyce didn’t actually have a cock, although she clearly wished she did.
More of a man than Andrew, in truth, Joyce wore the pants in that sibling
relationship, probably bossing him while still in the womb. Joyce’s hard green
eyes glittered with mirth and something else. Something that made the base of
Michael’s neck tingle in atavistic warning. But the supercilious comment had
the required effect, something he so regretted now.
    “Do your worst, Joyce.” The triumph in Joyce’s eyes was quickly
masked and he didn’t know how to take the agreement back without looking